


til the heart bells ring

by awwcoffeenooooo



Series: we punish our hearts // kastle mini fics [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Rainy Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 17:49:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awwcoffeenooooo/pseuds/awwcoffeenooooo
Summary: She pulls her favorite mug from the cabinet, the one with too many chips along the rim and a ring stain on the inside. A dash of milk because she’s feeling homey, and a sprinkle of vanilla to accompany. The white skull glares at her, the hollow black eyes so stark compared to how she knowshisare.Karen pushes it down, and sips her coffee.





	til the heart bells ring

**Author's Note:**

> for the nonnie on tumblr who asked for a fluffy rainy day inside :)
> 
> title from u2's The Crystal Ballroom
> 
> (in which I should be working on finals stuff but i needed a break)
> 
> i hope you enjoy

Summer in New York is stifling. **  
**

The air moves slow, the heat is thick, and the residents are almost always more pissy than usual. The power surges seemingly once a week, but at night the streets are silent save for the buzzing of fans and AC units in the open windows and porches. Children’s popsicles melt in sticky rainbows down their fingers when they aren’t playing in sprays of water, and Karen is left feeling distinctly old when she fails to find the same magic in the summer’s heat.

But there is always a respite, and in this case, it comes in the form of millions of tiny droplets sliding across burnt pavement and bleached buildings.

The clouds roll in around noon, dark and angry seeming until the sun is blotted out, when they smooth into a single smokey expanse. The rain follows soon after.

She almost misses the old days – the ones up in Vermont, watching the storms roll in from the screened porch and counting down the lightning strikes. She almost misses the way the humidity would frizz stick straight hair, the way two kids would build and hide in a blanket fort until the worst of it had blow over.

But those days are past, and while she may be lonely now, she is content.

She pulls her favorite mug from the cabinet, the one with too many chips along the rim and a ring stain on the inside. A dash of milk because she’s feeling homey, and a sprinkle of vanilla to accompany. The white skull glares at her, the hollow black eyes so stark compared to how she knows  _his_  are.

Karen pushes it down, and sips her coffee.

Her eyes follow the constellations on the glass, the way droplets streak and blend to make a maze like starlight. And a crack of thunder, almost as if summoning the knock at the door.

Ellison isn’t letting her work. Something about too many articles, an overdose of caffeine, and not enough sleep. She points out she can sleep when she’s dead, and he pats her shoulder and tells her that will be sooner rather than later if she doesn’t dial it back just a bit.

She wonders what he’d say if he saw her now, greeting Death himself at her door like an old friend.

(But, well, he is. And it’s only right to greet Death with a kiss.)

He smiles at her when she pulls away, eyes dancing. “Missed me?’

She laughs; blushes. Ducks her head to kiss him again. “Just a bit.”

Frank squeezes her palm, gives her a little spin on her heel. Karen rolls her eyes, but she’s beaming as much as he is.

He’s a romantic in these stolen moments. These small things where they can pretend they’re normal, so far removed from the battlefield that haunts his mind and tugs at her soul.

His hands aren’t hard here; they’re gentle. His voice isn’t roaring with his blood, and the only heat here is in the dedication for each other. She holds him all the tighter for it, pressing her chin into his collar, inhaling his scent of soap and coffee. Eyes shut, feeling his warmth, his strength, his love.

The rain beats harder upon the windows.

“I love you,” she murmurs, the words quiet, revered. He lets out a quiet sigh against her scalp, his breath warming the roots of her hair.

“And I’m in love with you,” Frank returns, soft. This exchange isn’t new, but she’s long since realized – always present tense.

Always now, always here. Always  _in love_ , never just  _love_  alone. They only have these small rendezvous, these stolen breaths, this present. She can’t afford to live in the past, nor he in any tense other than  _now_. And now is what they have, and he’ll never let her forget it.

“There’s coffee on the stove,” she says, finally pulling back.

Her eyes catch his, dark like the night, and she presses a single quick kiss to his lips before pulling away fully.

He hums, boots toed off before she can reprimand him, and he pads to the kitchen. She lets him have at the last of her coffee, and instead turns to the couch and her blankets.

Frank’s back before she has much of time to do anything other than curl back up in a ball in the corner. He sits close enough to run circles on her ankle, his worn skin a contrast to her pale complexion. Karen rests her head upon his shoulder.

He kisses her again, his lips stained with the burntness of her dark roast. And she kisses him, lips heavy but sweet with the cream and vanilla.

The rain falls, but they don’t see.

The rain falls, but they stay dry.

Together.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> i'll be accepting mini prompts through 12am pacific time, so hit me if you feel like it :)
> 
> comments are always a nicety, though not a necessity :)


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